by Pam Uphoff
Staven winced. "She . . . may be calculating the advantages of maintaining the status quo."
"Don't say things like that."
A guard opened a door for them. Rolo had the back half of the wing on this, the second, floor. Staven had always had a room here, but resolutely lived with his mother in her house. When he'd returned from his two year rotation, he'd grabbed a room on the fourth floor, just to have somewhere to sleep if he was here too late. Two years later, Rebo and his clutter had moved out into the posher bachelor apartments on the third floor. This had left an enormous space empty, which his two sisters—half sisters—had taken over and redecorated. Fifteen and eleven years old, now.
The baby cried, back in the back somewhere.
"I guess Felashi and Hedi have been pretty excited."
His father chuckled. "About everything except diapers."
Indeed the girls were hovering over the crib, breaking away to drag him over to see the tiny bald little creature who, with luck, would displace Staven in the line of succession.
"Umm . . . "
Felashi glared. "This is what newborn babies look like. He's much better looking than Mirk, who's got a six day head start."
Hedi nodded. "Even his mother doesn't love him. She's gone away again."
Staven winced. The casual cruelty of children. I hope to hell he's got a nice wet nurse and nanny. He glanced back at his father and . . . shut his mouth. He was doting over the baby, radiant smile on his face. I'll check myself . . . I'll add Mirk's children to Rebo's on my list of minor responsibilities. I'll make sure all of them are all right.
"Girls! It's not a beauty contest." Amilie was propped up in bed, all cleaned up in a pretty robe, for the expected hordes of visitors.
He admired the tiny baby, held him carefully, and handed him back gratefully.
Rolo laughed. "Babies aren't that fragile."
Amilie snorted, then winced and clutched her belly. "Yes they are. You louts be careful, no swords."
Staven grinned at his stepmother. "Yet. Most of the babies I've been around were a few months older before I was allowed to hold them." And I used to have two hands to hold them with. He stayed a few more minutes, then hearing voices from the other room, stepped out. He nodded to his grandfather, uncle and great uncle, as they came to view the baby. They'd haul his father out for the official announcement in a few moments.
Staven walked across the hallway and tapped politely.
He recognized the woman who answered the door. "Miss Sandra! How nice to see you again. They've put you in charge of the kids here?" At least one of which is crying back there.
"Prince Staven! My, now aren't you just so well grown now! Come in, come in. I remember when you were this age."
A girl was peering apprehensively around the older woman's skirts, clinging.
"Hi Imeldi. Are you kids doing all right?" Oh, suave. I not only sound like a stupid adult, I am one.
She nodded, and skittered away.
"It's hard on them. Imeldi's shy, and old enough to know her world's just collapsed around her." Miss Sandra cast a glance over her shoulder. "Jasquin misses her father, and doesn't realize he isn't coming back. Kel . . . well, Prince Mirk never had much to do with him."
Staven nodded. "And is Princess Marie very involved with them? She never impressed me as very cozy, not that I ever saw her in a domestic situation."
Snort. "No one ever saw 'cozy' from that woman." She sighed. "If you are here to see her . . ."
"No. I came to see the kids." Staven tried to articulate his feelings. "They need to know the family isn't abandoning them." He winced at her raised eyebrows. "Well. I won't. So, where are these babies?"
Thirty seconds later he was sitting on a sofa, holding a very unhappy baby. Well. He'd been around other babies. His brothers and sisters, and Uncle Day's extended family and adopted kids . . . He let Miss Sandra arrange a rag over his shoulder and started rubbing the baby's back. Little Mirk promptly barfed up more than he possibly could have eaten in the last three days. And cuddled down and fell asleep.
Staven looked down at the tiny boy. Son of the man who murdered my brother. Who maimed me in a trap set up to kill my uncle. Poor baby. I hope he never understands why everyone in the palace keeps him at arms length.
He let Miss Sandra take him and found a crawler making a beeline for him. Prince Kel grabbed his leg and used him as a prop to pull up and stand.
"Well, aren't you a big boy!" He searched his memory. "One year old next week, right?"
The boy just held up both hands. Staven scooped him up a bit awkwardly, one armed. "Your turn, huh? You aren't going to barf on me are you?"
A giggle from the doorway. Shy Imeldi peeked in, and a smaller girl in a ridiculously ornate outfit trotted around to view this interloper.
"Hi, Jasquin." The girl climbed up beside him. Very trusting. Or maybe I just look like every other member of the family and get automatic familiarity credit.
Mihaela and I would have beautiful little girls just like these two. I want them.
He stayed for an hour, and made a mental promise to visit often.
So long as I can avoid Princess Marie!
Chapter Four
Late Winter 1393
Charliesville, Arrival
"So, that's where we are right now." Xen propped his elbows comfortably on the dining room table. The trio of people he'd rescued, sort of, from the Gods of Art and Mercy, were staying with his courtesy aunt and uncle.
He met Grace's apprehensive gaze. Born almost fourteen centuries ago, she'd spent most of her life "stored" in multi-dimensional bubbles with an extreme time dilation. She looked to be about sixteen years old, biologically. "I bubbled your mother, just like she bubbled you so often. I don't like the idea, but you know yourself that it does no harm—apart from all your friends and everything else in the world changing."
Her mouth turned down. "Mother doesn't have friends. Except for the worst of the gods."
"She'll be fine Grace. You can let her out when the world is ready to cope with her." Xen looked at the other two. Simon looked a decade younger than he had, just a few weeks ago. I'll bet Charlie's introduced him to the Wine of the Gods. And River too, by her double glow. "And then I managed to do the same to the God of Art. Actually I put him under four layers, since he's so familiar with the process. And, umm, he was in the middle of not-quite holding off a transformation spell, so he made a really, really ugly statue. Which will seriously piss him off. I have hopes of him not escaping until I'm dead. And possibly my children and grandchildren as well."
Grace snickered.
"Anyhow, you're free now to check out the future of your world. Or, of course, stay here. But my mother suggested that you visit Ash. River and Grace really ought to meet the Pyramid. And I'll introduce Simon to the local wizards."
Grace and River exchanged apprehensive looks.
Simon took River's hand, but he looked over his shoulder at the pretending-to-not-listen trio behind him. "As much as I've enjoyed the hospitality, I think two months is enough. I think it's time to explore."
Chapter Five
Late Winter 1393
King's Own HQ, Karista
"Garit, do you want to come and evaluate these nephews of ours? Some of them may end up in the succession, so I need to check on how they are being raised."
As plans went, it had several drawbacks. Starting with Mihaela having been hauled off to Ash for magic lessons, so Staven couldn't talk to her about it. Yet. But at least he had a starting place. Rebo's children ought to still be in the succession. And the Charter was quite clear about adopted children being treated equally with children of the body. So all he had to do was adopt a couple of Rebo's orphans—Old Gods knew how many he had. Or would have once the last arrived next fall. Five sons that he knew of—and he'd be all fixed for heirs and he and Mihaela could marry and add their own daughters to the family.
The starting point was to meet all the boys.
"Great nephews, in my case. Yeah. I need to get back to Fort Stag anyway, and Ash is the shortest route. C'mon."
They trotted down to the big barn behind the Headquarter's building of the King's Own. Handy to both the palace and HQ.
Staven stopped at Devil's stall and let himself in.
The big stallion tossed his head and nudged him.
"No, I can't take you for a walk right now . . . and don't give me those hurt looks, you're getting out three times a day and we both know it."
Garit snickered. "You're as bad as Xen, talking to his horse all the time." He gave Devil a familiar slap on the neck then walked off to find a mount.
Staven winced a little. Garit's horse was killed in battle less than a year ago. Not that Joker was anywhere as good as Devil, but . . .
"All right buddy. You keep getting better. I think your grandsire is getting sick and tired of hauling me around." He hugged the horse's neck, winced as he bumped the stump of his right arm . . . It's getting more tender. Not ready for a hook yet. He swallowed, squared his shoulders. I'll get used to it, if it doesn't grow enough.
He stepped out and found an eager page holding Solstice. "Markly . . . oh, all right grab a horse."
The kid grinned and bolted back into the depths of the barn.
"Training up a curb to watch your back?" Garit led up a big bay gelding. There were more sounds of hooves on concrete, the creak of leather deeper in the barn . . . a guard detail saddling up, no doubt.
"I think he's training himself." Staven shrugged. "So, let's start with some of the kids here in town. I know where three of them live, and they may know where the other five are. Well, only the boys count, for the list. But . . . I dunno. I'm starting to feel like I ought to pay some attention to all these kids of Rebo's."
Garit opened his mouth . . . closed it.
"Does it hurt to think before speaking?"
Garit grinned. "So far, but I don't have a lot of practice at not snipping at Rebo. So, what was it? Eight kids, born six years ago?"
"Yeah. Five girls, three boys. Considerable doubts about who their actual father is. But the three kids I know have the family looks. Then Lady Eden's twin sons." Staven heaved himself up onto Solstice's high back and led the way. Didn't protest when four guards fell in behind them.
"Weren't there a half-dozen more, from the, umm . . . "
"Wedding Orgy. No, actually those six babies were all born too late to be Rebo's." Staven shrugged. "Not that Rebo behaved otherwise, but there were only the eight claims for support. Lady Eden is financially independent."
"But since the royals are rich, any woman with a claim would have applied to father, even if Rebo rejected her." Garit frowned. "What odds that the Council will decide Rebo and Eden's marriage is valid?"
"Hard to say. Desert Valley Province is all for it, and Governor Newry of Foothills is Princess Amilie's uncle. Duke Bret's other daughter married into Ferris . . . his youngest son married a daughter of Rondo's . . . "
"Old Gods. Politics."
"Hmm, we're going to both need to become experts."
Garit looked over at him. "Have I mentioned how happy I would be to be just an army officer, and not the spear heir?"
"Hey, you got the easy job!"
Three blocks up from the docks, Staven turned down Bass Lane. It was daylight, so the yard was empty and quiet. Solstice's neigh went unanswered, but Staven heard rustling up in the hay loft of the barn.
Aunt Andrai walked out on the porch to frown disapprovingly at them. "I had hoped you wouldn't bring that creature back. I've told Damien a hundred times that we'd look so much more respectable if we just had plain brown horses."
"I think Damien has made pintos as close to respectable as is possible. Aunt Andrai, this is Garit, who is technically my uncle. We're, well, checking on how Rebo's kids are doing. I thought I'd start here."
Andrai waved at the barn. "Try the hay loft. Why they haven't broken their necks, I have no idea." She stepped off the porch to open the gate to the stable yard for them.
"Little kids are made of rubber, else none of us would survive."
The triplets—and four friends—promptly proved it by rolling down the ladder in a single mass and climbing all over Solstice.
Garit sensibly back his mount away from the kids.
Solstice seemed to be enjoying his homecoming. Staven swung down and started boosting kids up on the stallion's high back.
Garit rejoined him on foot. "I thought there were only three kids?"
Staven laughed. "Yeah, and I'll bet you can pick out the relatives."
"Oh, the three blonde ones? Yeah." He was eying the scrambling kids askance.
"Ileana, here, is Mihaela's youngest sister. The other three I don't know, friends from the neighborhood, no doubt. And yes, they all behave much differently around other horses."
"Even so, I'm surprised they've survived this long." Garit eyed Solstice. "He's a good looking fellow, despite the spots. But much too placid to be a warhorse."
Staven snickered. "He's smart. Knows the difference between a kid and a bandit. Anyway, this is Pepi, a little hard to tell, but she's a girl."
"Uncle Staven!"
"And this is Nels and this is Ivan. You guys will be six in another month, right?"
"Twenty-four and a half days." Pepi grinned. "Are you going to get us something even sillier, this time?"
"I'll try. I'm running out of time though." Staven spotted them all checking out Garit and the guards. Two of the guards were hovering in the barn door, and no doubt the others were watching the road and keeping a wary eye on Andrei. "I might have to get you something nice this year."
Her eyes lit up. "A knife!"
"A sword! I'm big enough to have a sword now!" Ivan slid off Solstice to lean on Staven. "Please?"
"You're going to get me into trouble with Uncle Day."
Nels, still up on the horse, shook his head. "With Aunt Andrei. Dad already shows us how to sword fight properly. But only with wooden swords."
The other two looked glum. Ivan nodded. "And she complains about those."
Staven cleared his throat. "I think she complains about everything. But none the less, no. No swords."
"Awwwww!" Three voices at once.
Great kids . . . but crown and spear material? I don't know. How can you tell when they're so young? "Now, if I can have Solstice back, we need to get going. And you lot can get back to whatever nefarious things you were up to in the hay loft."
Garit was smiling a bit as they walked out. "No wonder you've always been the most sensible of us. You have, well, real people who like you as a person, and you don't have to wonder if they're calculating your power to grant favors."
"Other than as a source of presents, the stranger the better?" Staven tightened the cinch and heaved himself aboard Solstice. He leaned and stroked the horse's neck. "Sooner or later I'm going to have to start riding horses that will give me a bit of a fight. Then I'll find out if I have any future as any sort of fighter. Devil . . . Once spring is further along, I should put him out to pasture . . . maybe take him—carefully—down to the Royal Stud. For now, I'm just bloody delighted to have Solstice."
Garit mounted a rather ordinary bay. "I need to get down to the stud, get Clowny back, get her into shape. But I've taken too much time already. Are you trying to dodge classes? Take three weeks to get to Ash?"
Staven grinned. "Oh, have I got a surprise for you."
Garit grinned back. "So I can't astonish you with the corridor that goes from Rufi's to the wizard's tower? Or we could go through the Crossroads."
"There's three shortcuts to Ash? I only know about the one from the temple."
"From the temple? Huh. Xen's never mentioned that one. Rufi always sends messages through the one Lebonift set up ages ago. Lead on."
The ruins of the Temple of Ba'al occupied an amazingly valuable block of land in the city. The ownership of the land was tied up in court. Between creditors, claimants, and adherents of the
god, it was apparently going to stay there for at least another decade. The grounds were occupied, and sometimes farmed by a miscellaneous collection of the homeless. Staven ignored them and took aim for a spot on the marble wall that ran between the former museum and the half collapsed dome of the temple. He tried to do that little flick of power that unlocked the magic corridor. Failed. Solstice turned an ear toward him and demonstrated how it was done. I wonder how he learned that? The marble wall didn't disappear, but the horse trotted right through the illusion over the corridor and into the village of Ash.
He lucked out and found Eden at home.
She hesitated, then invited them in.
"The boys are, what, six or seven months old?" Staven tried for a mild and friendly tone.
"Almost eight. They're both crawling, and amazingly hard to keep track of."
Garit snickered. Staven glanced at him, then followed his gaze in time to see half a baby disappearing around a corner.
Eden sighed and followed, returning with a baby in each arm.
Garit nodded. "They even look like Rebo. Or family, at any rate."
"Yeah . . . which one is which? They're old enough that even I ought to be able to tell them apart."
Eden snorted. "Fortunately they aren't identical, so I'm not quite the only one who can tell them apart. This is Irwin, and this is Alin."
Garit snickered. "More hair and less hair. That's not going to work for very long."
Staven eyed them. "Umm. Right, well. The Council is still trying to decide if you and Rebo were legally married or not. I'm keeping an eye on the matter and, well, I'll let you know if . . . " he sighed. "Sorry. I really am not liking the life of the crown heir, and if I can shift it off onto one of the kids . . . I'll be delighted. But it will bring you more into the limelight and back into Karista than you might like."